


Upgraded

by BatsuGames



Series: Malkavian Web of Vines [3]
Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Gen, Malkavian Madness, Malkavian Network is big in this, OC is a cheerful Scottish martial artist, Only played Bloodlines so not very lore friendly, References from the crazy Malkavian mind, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-05-07 12:06:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19209094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatsuGames/pseuds/BatsuGames
Summary: Honestly, Ivy had only wanted a bit of fun that night with a couple people, what's so bad about that? Except her mind had just cracked under the pressure, and she'd only survived by the skin of her suddenly sharp and pointy teeth to survive and work for the Camarilla.Malkavian words often make no sense in the moment they were spoke to many, but Beckett had been good friends with Anatole once, and knew not to so easily dismiss them. And neither did he want to dismiss the energetic fledgling under LaCroix's clemency.They find that Ivy is rather in deep with the Malkavian Network.





	1. Oh, The Hokey-Cokey

**Author's Note:**

> Something deeper in with the Malkavians - more madness. The last of me using Ivy, I think.

 

* * *

 

 

“-The laws that are the fabric of our existence, have been broken.”

 

_Did… What happened? I-I was stabbed?_

 

“-The privilege of siring.”

 

 _Siring?_ It was so hard for Ivy to open her eyes right them, the feeling of something chattering along her skin. It felt like something was laughing, rumbling in her, heavy with something. She felt woozy, could hear words outside as well as in. She felt a whoosh of something and could smell ash and blood and that drew her away from the talking she could hear from within. In? Out? _Shake it all about!_

 

What?

 

Why was her mind so flip-floppy?

 

“Therefore, I have decided-”

 

“This is _bullshit!_ ”

 

The more chattering came outside, the more she could focus on that instead. Oh, but then she just plain felt weird with… well, not chattering but something tingling? She suddenly felt her hands release and blinked, trying to focus. It took concentration, but eventually she was able to crack through to reality and breathed in.

 

Wasn’t she just having a threesome?

 

“-And I hope their significance is not lost. Good evening. Childe.”

 

Thinking that was her since his voice was quieter and more her direction, she blearily looked up, seeing a handsome if expectant face. Eventually, the new vampire was able to get up, feeling like she was stepping through a dark field of glowing motes and will-o-the-wisp’s brushing against her. It was calming peaceful, until the one who’d been speaking drew her over and when she got closer to him felt the motes _fizzle,_ as if to make a point. She couldn’t help but stare at him trying to detect what it was that had him not right.

 

“Understand my predicament-”

 

“It is like the static on a television. There.” She pointed at him, rather more bluntly than she previously would have. Wouldn’t she have? Would she have? She put the hand to her head, cringing. “It interrupts. You. Apologies, I cannot seem to think quite straight. Or perhaps it’s timey-wimey? Wait, that isn’t yet, I’m very sure. Ha! Allons-y!” Then she frowned. “Oh my goodness, shut, _up_ , brain.”

 

“I see you are a Malkavian. Yet, you seem rather to have _some_ sort of hold on it. I had thought your sire Tremere?” Sebastian frowned, not liking having been misinformed.

 

“I had a bargain deal tonight of two for one!” She grinned at him and then she contemplated that response curiously. “Is that me? Maybe a little me with the silly jokes. Oh no, I don’t even know anymore.”

 

He raised a brow at the promiscuity but didn’t really care. It’s not as though he hadn’t indulged in such before. “Indeed?” Yes. Well. Regardless of such proclivities, it was intriguing to see obviously extra potent Malkavian blood being reined in by another blood quite so well in a new born fledgling. As much as he was busy with being Prince and running the Ventrue business, he did enjoy learning of their people - both for entertainment and greater chances of using them well. The Malkavian kindred were almost unbearable, but their talents were beyond useful. Mixed with a Tremere? What did that grant? Were her powers that overlapped twice as strong? Did they cancel out? Did it weaken her? What use was she to be to the Camilla? And more pertinently, to him? “Your sire-”

 

“It’s really very static. Buzzing louder now. Can I see?”

 

About to snap at her to get on with it as he still had a night of work to get to instead of pandering to her derangement, he saw the twitch in her face, the non-blinking stare at his chest and the finger pointing at the same place. “Very well, make it quick.”

 

In a jiffy, the Malkavian had her hand stuffed in his pocket and pulling out his phone. She pulled it away from them both and kept her eyes on him. Seeing the buzzing go away and come back again when she held it near him and away from him a couple of times, she nodded. “Ah, this! Good, away is best. You were not right with it. Tainted? No, _breached_ upon. Perhaps… once more unto the breach, dear friends?” She wondered, taking the phone apart with sharp nails careful not to leave scratches, ignoring his scowl when she put the battery in his front breast pocket. A few twiddles with her thumb nail and a small pop and suddenly she lifted a little circle. “Follow the yellow brick road? No, awe seventy-nine!”

 

“Follow? What do you mean-” He suddenly caught on, holding her finger and taking it from her. “A tracker? So small? How did you know it was there?” He inquired silkily, because this was something he’d not predicted. It was near on always with him. Perfect, of course, for whomever was so brazenly and foolishly tracking him. He would make sure this would not go unpunished in some way.

 

She seemed to be able to click through for a moment, pushing down the madness by Willpower. “It did feel like bad reception. As much as my mind seems to like spewing these almost nonsensical phrases, that is rather accurate. What is happening to me, Mister, ah…?”

 

“Prince Sebastian LaCroix. You are?”

 

“Ivy Montgomery. How do you do?” She began to put the phone back together, nodding when he also replied, ‘how do you do’ and took the battery sheepishly from his front pocket, noting the raised brow. Clicked into place and she gave it back and eyed him, letting the Madness slip back in and the fuzziness of the motes reappeared. “Reception is good again. Nice to be back online.” Rearing back to look at him, she nodded, appeased. Then she blinked and whirled around to look at the big boy following them. “Tiny. Too much dust. The breeze is nice out here. But it’s colder in Los Angeles?” For some reason, she wrapped her arms around the big guy in a hug. He didn’t move, and that was good enough. She peeked up, smiling, to see him staring back at her intently. Some voice tapped at her, one she realised was her original and allowed it to come forth.

 

Only to realise where she was and let her lips tremble as Sanity came back.

 

Sebastian, though inwardly annoyed, felt able to hold back on being harsh when usually he wouldn’t. He liked to dominate people to turn them into his grudgingly obedient servants. This one could be easily handled by letting her own madness and morals shift together. She was useful, and he believed he could abide these little segue way’s that rather helped to allow him to ruminate over what she spoke of. For now, he would tolerate. Kindness in these early days would not be forgotten to a fledgling. And she was Malkavian. His bloodline had always been close with that of the Seers. “This is your trial. You’ll be brought to Santa Monica. There, you will meet an agent by the name of Mercurio. He will provide the details of your labour.”

 

“The trial will be the completion of the flight footed ones’ task? I can have more jobs after the trials completion, boss?”

 

“Quite so, but I shall tell you when the trial ends.”

 

“Where can I learn about doing what I do? Are there mouths and hands to guide gently?”

 

“Hm, yes, a fledgling under my name had better be visibly talented. After this task, when you’ve come back to me, you will go to the Tremere Primogen, Regent Maximillian Strauss, in his chantry. He would be most interested in you, I imagine.” He didn’t want to send her there, but he needed a decent agent. Already she was proving worthwhile with her Malkavian abilities. He wondered on whether to not have her as mobile hands, but as something more protective or spy-direcetd.

 

“I am intriguing, yes. Boss, can I fight him?” Ivy pointed at Sheriff. “He looks fun!”

 

Sebastian was suddenly remembering that Malkavian’s _also_ performed as jesters of the court. “No.”

 

“Oh, that’s a shame. Tiny looks like he’d enjoy it.”

 

He highly doubted she’d be a match and replied, bored, as they went on, “Quite.”

 

“I fight. World class.” She looked back at Tiny, grin turning into a smirk. “Soon, yes?”

 

Sheriff stared and then looked to his Master. “Hn.”

 

Sebastian raised his brows when he heard the man grunt. “Indeed? Then very well, next time you come, I’m sure to enjoy the scene. Now, go.” He gestured to the side door.

 

Ivy watched as they left the theatre in a different way and then she herself left the building, instantly sensing something to her left.

 

A man, gristly and grinning, came over to me. “Hoo-wee, they just threw you right on out, didn’t they? Hahaha! Quite the new born too! Man, I heard you were fucked, but boy, you’re Malkavian! You’re fucked over twice, ain’t’cha, kid?”

 

Ivy couldn’t help but giggle along with him and with the voices in her head. “Three times! I had both Malki and Tremmy men! Delicious, half price!” She put both thumbs up and laughed again.

 

He cackled at that. “Holy shit I like you, kid! I’m Jack. Let me teach you a few things, ah?”

 

And so, the Scot went to learn quite the few things from the man in the next ten minutes, and when she sunk her, as Smiling Jack called them ‘ _Most adorable goddamn fangs I ever saw_ ’ into the man, she felt the blood sleek down her tongue and throat and into her body. Her eyes rolled in pleasure, felt everything in her tremble and light up in joy but, oddly, she did not hear the greatest call for draining him dry like Smiling Jack said would be there. She didn’t feel this beast he spoke of. The molten juice was like liquid gold on her tongue, decadent and life-changing and sent waves of warmth through her. Putting his unconscious body down was a shame, and she licked the blood from him, idly noting her saliva coagulate and heal the two pin points.

 

“Huh.”

 

Jack held her chin carefully, looking at her eyes with a furrow of his brows. “You weren’t crazy. Usually a sire’s gotta fight their childe’s instinctual first feed.”

 

“Many beasts in my head, held down by the steel of my mind.”

 

“Willpower, probably from that Tremere side of ya. You got a little lucky there, kid. But, eh, it don’t look like much of the Tremere side lasted – must’ve been one heck of a Malk.”

 

Did she get lucky with this? She didn’t much different from the human life she’d lost. It was there, the beast, but it seemed almost sedated from the overwhelming amount of voices murmuring in her head. Good, it could stay that way for now. She already had the Network of her fellow people in her head to deal with. “Wind of fortune is so very fickle. Not unlike nature. The sea.” Her nose twitched, almost smelling the salty air. “The sea, the sea! You miss it.”

 

He cracked a wry sort of smile at her exposing him. “Ain’t nothing for it, now, darlin’. Nothin’ much gets past you Malk’s. And you’re damn good.”

 

Ivy nodded sagely, a grin on her lips. “Reflexes of a master.”

 

Jack snickered and went on, “Happy huntin’, darlin’, and come stop by the Last Round and I’ll buy ya one!”

 

“One? Stingy!” She called after him, and he laughed louder. Then she muttered, “And we don’t even drink anymore. Cheating prick.”

 

.

 

Ivy eyed the house off the beach that held the astrolite and Mercurio’s money, feeling the whispers warn her against being nice.

 

Currently she was LaCroix’s gopher, and what hurt his reputation, such as Mercurio being beaten bloodied and sent back missing explosives and money, would not look good on her being an agent and thus his reputation.

 

The Scot did not accept that, as she kept her honour well and this would reflect on her and thus ruin any potential standing she may gain.

 

Her eyes narrowed.

 

She went forth with almost silent ease and cut them down with nary a sweat.

 

It was the first time she’d killed, and it was so, so easy.

 

And the voices helped her morals be calmed, taking away those emotions that would be detrimental to her task.

 

She wondered of it as the last fell to her claws.

 

How could voices take the emotions away? What else was this Network capable of? She wanted to know more. Whispers giggled in her head at that, approving.

 

Oddly, she looked around when she left after only a couple minutes inside, having dragged the bodies out into the back end of the shabby house that had no grass, just mud, and setting them on fire with gas from a car and some matches. It stunk, but she wasn’t about to let them be found out by the local police, all drained of blood. That was just stupid. So, she watched them, interspersed with peering about suspiciously when she just kept feeling eyes on her. What on earth was she feeling? Her voices wondering about?

 

It's then she noticed the wolf, and she couldn’t help the look of awe on her face, never seeing one in person before. “Pretty puppers…”

 

The wolf tilted its’ head at her and then at the fire.

 

“Well, not going to be tarnishing reputations lest it hurts my own good name, hm? And we wear masks, yes?” Then her own head tilted and she gave a soft smile, feeling happy for the first time since she changed. She was relieved to know something like seeing an animal as majestic as a wolf still brought wonder to her, despite everything changing. “You’re cute.” It took her in once more and then she looked away back to the fire, mumbling, “Thanks, wolf.”

 

* * *

 


	2. Lovestone

* * *

 

 

It’s when Ivy saw a flicker, magic will-o-the-wisps moving around that which isn’t there, that she locked onto it, nose twitching. “How does one do that?”

 

The movement stopped.

 

“Yes, you, non-shadow. Let me play your games!”

 

A snort, and the oddest looking vampire… and most stereotypical one too appeared. “Heh. The new one. Doubt you can, but I suppose I can teach in return for some information. There aren’t exactly Malkavian’s coming out the wazoo in this place, is there…?”

 

She smiled. “What do you wish to know?”

 

“A key?”

 

“Cypher?”

 

“Nah, for a box.”

 

“A puzzle box from far away in another country in this country!”

 

“What?” The Nosferatu frowned.

 

“That’s your answer, work it out yourself. Now, gimme gimme the shadows!”

 

“Fine, but I want some deeper explanation!”

 

The woman merely grinned at him.

 

.

 

Ivy tilted her head to the side as the wolf turned into man, and she grinned at the rather nice specimen before her. “Ah, what a pretty pooch! And a glorious gaze to match…” She hummed, looking at him up and down, the red eyed male raising his brows at such forwardness. “I don’t think I’d mind that gaze penetrating me, and other things of yours at the same time.” She tugged on his jacket playfully, and the man cleared his throat, not unopposed to her flirting she saw, but a bit thrown by her forthright brazenness. Then she frowned and let go, crossing her arms but putting the side of a finger to her chin. “Wait, can we even _get it up_ , so to speak?”

 

He lips twitched up into a roguish smirk. “Ah, the fledgling, I see. And yes.”

 

“A fledgling? But you’ve not seen me fly?”

 

“Not even a fledgling then?” He retorted, enjoying this.

 

Ivy grimaced at him comically. “I’m a fledgling to only _some_ night time delights, I assure you. I know how to make my men fly.” Then she widened her grimace into a grin. “It’s why two of them bit me at once!” She laughed, making the man before her snort. “Ah, you enjoy banter. Not many around here seem to have? A shame, teasing is fun.”

 

“Do I hear a Scots accent? Edinburgh, I believe?” He wondered, trailing eyes up and down her.

 

“From the City of Dreaming Spires to Auld Reekie! And you, shapeshifter?” Her bright blue eyes widened, curious.

 

That made him smile a little more openly. “I’m also from Oxford. Beckett is my name; how do you do?”

 

“How do you do?” She replied instantly. “Ivy Montgomery.” Then she blinked and murmured softly as she looked away, “Well, maybe just Ivy now.” Then she tilted her head curiously. “Ivy Lovestone? Ivy Bacchus-Clad?” She shrugged and perused his face as she ruminated out loud, “Why do you track my scent? I am very fresh a scent with no overtones to this perfume yet.”

 

“Indeed it is a fresh scent, the ivy, and to my recollection, Bacchus does dress in such leaves to prevent alcoholic intoxication. You are Malkavian, for sure…” Beckett pondered, peering at her grinning self. “I’m yet to see what other side you have if two for one. So rare does a vampire share, but indeed it would likeliest be the Malkavian Clan. Doubtful to me is it that it is Ventrue or Toreador. Not Brujah or Gangrel,” He spoke to himself as he eyed her in contemplation. “I will figure it out soon, I’m sure.”

 

“Confidence is key and you have a skeleton version,” Ivy smiled, nodding in approval. “How smooth the bone is!”

 

“Thank you, dear Lovestone.”

 

“Fitting for a pretty pooch, yes?”

 

“Only the silkiest of fur on me.”

 

Ivy giggled at that, amused as she eyes his hair. Then her chin rose, a challenging light in her eyes. “You will not unlock my doors so soon, however. I throw down the glove.”

 

Beckett’s lips turned into a smirk, liking her playfulness and flirting. “Oh? I do like a challenge. But, there are rumblings for me to discredit.”

 

“A truth-seeker? As am I! It is key to your existence, though for me I like the shiny treasures for their glimmer. Not just the gold ones, either.” Then she tilted her head, looking away, listening. “Oh, and it’s not the only key in play. The ghosts of ten thousand heroes gamble for their own side.” Then she shook her head and gave him a grin, noting his sharp look at her words. “Oh, bye-bye, therianthropist! It’s still a trial for me with the jester-prince,” Then she looked to the burning detritus left by explosion and laughed. “And it’s currently by fire! Toodles!” She wiggled her fingers at him and rushed off

 

“Wait, Miss Lovestone! Sabbat-”

 

“Shan’t!” She was already running off and away from him in a swish of pleated skirt.

 

Leaving behind a frowning Beckett.

 

Shaking his head, he turned back into a wolf, pondering the Malkavian’s words carefully. They were the likeliest to be Seers, after all, and such words spoke of foretelling. He would look into that ‘heroes’ remark. It made something in the back of his head click.

 

And he didn’t get to ask her about the odd feeling in the air.

 

Beckett narrowed his eyes thoughtfully in her direction.

 

He’d be sure to follow this up, and well, if flirting was the way, then he’d happily do so.

 

Much less violent.

 

.

 

Ivy grinned at Sebastian as she strode forth. “Hello, Prince! It’s gone boom, I’ve learnt some tricks but not enough. Nosferatu are so curious and fiddly, I like them. Sabbat are annoying, I don’t like them. Brash bastards. Oooh, acoustics,” She said realising how well the place echoed. “Shame I cannot sing! Only dance, in more than a handful of ways! Do you like to dance? Can I dance with him?” She pointed at Sheriff, whose fingers clenched into a fist. “He’s keen. Many are!” She laughed.

 

The Prince sighed out as he placed his pen down. At least she got to the point and wasn’t an eye-sore. “Yeeees,” He drawled out, taking her in. He’d found she was a popular figure in her human life, known in her martial arts circles, and thus this was to be… a difficult fledgling to deal with should she turn up dead. “You may fight.” The Prince waived away.

 

He did not expect the two to charge at each other so swiftly, his eyes widening.

 

Ivy ducked the punch, twisting to zip around him, catching the wrist in her grip and twisting her hand around and jump up to deliver a kick to his face. Her leg was caught and he prepared to fling her, but she let go and threw herself over his shoulder and dragged him forcefully with her and he was slammed to the floor with her on top. He grunted loudly, snarling, and she jumped away before his fist could connect with her stomach, laughter coming from her. She strafed to the side, rushing back in as he got up. She ducked a powerful punch, twisting around his form to face his back and ducking to punch him behind the knee.

 

Her blood made her faster than him, though he clearly had the strength.

 

He toppled a little, and she grabbed him by the hair painfully, only to slip out of the way of his furious backwards-shunting elbow with a giggle.

 

Sheriff growled, infuriated at how hard she was to hit.

 

He ran at her, following her side step to the left, coming up with a kick, only for her to step closer and knee his thigh and shove him away from her, leaving his side open that she tapped. “Too brute force!”

 

Seeing his Sheriff about to take his sword out, Sebastian called out demandingly, “Enough! That’s… that’s quite enough.” Realising he’d stood up in alarm, he cleared his throat, brushed his suit out and sat back down. “It seems, Miss Montgomery, that you are particularly talented if you can hold off Sheriff.” The Ventrue took her in, looking beyond pleased with herself, and a quick look to Sheriff saw the beginnings of a smile on the bigger man’s lips. He’d not ever seen Sheriff so happy since he took him away from his horrid cave in west Africa. “It seems I may have to rethink your position.”

 

“I’m rather masterful at those! Poses and dances! Let’s all dance more!” She laughed, patting Sherriff on the bicep. She blinked up at him when he pat her head and after a couple seconds of incredulity she beamed at him. “I like you too. Do you only fight? Do you dance?” A shake of the head. “I can teach you? Could be handy in a fight to break out different moves.”

 

Sheriff cocked his head at her, saying nothing.

 

“No? Eh.” Ivy shrugged, turning to Sebastian and going forth to stand before his desk. “Am I done with the trial? Any jobs available in its’ stead?”

 

Not wishing to have her against him (especially after that showing) he therefore felt it prudent for it to be shown he favoured her by freeing her. “Yes, I daresay you are done with your trial. Welcome to the Camarilla, Miss Montgomery.” He gave a barely there smile her way. “There is indeed work to be-” He was cut off by blaring alarms and scowled. “What now?”

 

Ivy focused on her madness, putting some of her blood into it, letting her Malkavian insight unfurl and floated it down through the tower. She ducked down, putting her face right up to the floor, which actually helped. Like she’d found a disturbance in Sebastian’s phone, so did she in the Ventrue Tower as buzzing came to her senses. “A group of twenty or so are converging on the stairs, and another smaller group are in the lift. Elevator. Hm.” She was kind of low on blood. Getting up again, she reached for a bag of blood from inside her jacket, and bit into it, swallowing swiftly, looking at the door and shivering at the luscious liquid rejuvenating her.

 

The Malkavian ignored the two males looking at her, and then at each other, the Sheriff nodding in agreement at what the woman said.

 

“Good senses, Miss Montgomery.”

 

Ignoring the wish to correct him and say she’d changed Montgomery to Lovestone for her new life, Ivy daintily licked the last droplets in the holes she made as she looked to the Prince. “Want a cockroach to squish out juice brain goodness?”

 

Sebastian raised a brow. “If you’re asking if I want you to bring one so I can interrogate him, then yes.”

 

“Yup!” With glee, Ivy left the room, sliding a long machete out of a hidden scabbard on her back, and disappeared from view with an Obfuscate. With preternatural ability, she jumped over the side of the stairs, falling several levels below the last of the group coming up with the fangs out, and caught onto the railing. It caused some noise, but they didn’t find anything when they looked back and determinedly went on.

 

Something she took complete advantage of with glee.

 

The last vampire trailing the group was swiftly dealt with by the head being chopped off with a strong slash. None of them looked back as the vampire turned to ash with barely a sound. The next twelve followed within seconds of each other. It wasn’t until she got to her fourteenth silent kill that she was found out. It’s then that Sheriff joined in, having taken his own out with ease. They left one, and Sheriff hefted him up over shoulder and returned to LaCroix within the space of mere minutes. They worked extremely well together.

 

Sebastian looked down at the maggot on his knees before him, with Sheriff and Ivy on either side of the Sabbat. Oh, now didn’t they look good like that? Yes, he rather liked how this was shaping up. “Now. Shall we begin?”

 

.

 

Ivy grinned at Beckett on a walk to the beach in a day off Sebastian gave her, enjoying the flirtations once again.

 

They’d seem to meet each night in Los Angeles, bumping into each other.

 

She was, maybe, growing a small crush on him.

 

It’s that thought which made her lips twitch and she looked forward knowingly.

 

“A curious expression.”

 

He saw, huh? Her lips quirked up a little higher. “Mm.”

 

His voice was suddenly by her ear and drawling out, “It’s very pretty on you.”

 

So glad she couldn’t blush, her chin tilted downwards as she was unable to say anything for a moment, but he laughed anyway, his own knowing smile on his lips.

 

Snarky bastard she liked…

 

The woman desperately tried to hide her growing grin by rubbing her cheek with her opposite hand, but it figured he knew anyway, what with his chuckle continuing. “So would pooch be.”

 

Beckett only smirked at her and stepped closer to her as they walked, revelling in her obvious like of him, but deciding to take it easy on her.

 

Malkavian fledgling, after all.

 

.

 

 

Why were these bastards everywhere?

 

Ivy jumped out of the way as Beckett snapped the arm of a Sabbat with the teeth of his wolf form. “Nice.” She came back in, grasping the Sabbat by the head and using it to swing around until his neck cracked, kicking the next one away from Beckett.

 

In return, the snarling wolf jumped on the downed one and ripped his neck out.

 

And that was it.

 

Ivy scooped up all the weapons dropped she could to shove them in her bag, thinking about selling the lot.

 

“You are well?”

 

Turning to him with an armful of guns of all sorts, she smiled. “Not a problem for me! You?”

 

He tilted his head, surprised at her lack of care, but ah, her Malkavian blood showed through again. He came over and held her bag open for her. “I am well. You are trained?”

 

She dumped them in artlessly. “Yes! My former self was a women’s champion in martial arts. My dad ran a dojo so I learnt styles since I was a little kid. I am thirty-two, so I have about twenty-six years of martial arts under my belt.” Then she paused and looked at the bag. Then up at him. “Sorry, did you want some to sell?”

 

“Keep them to sell. Trinkets from my digs sell well so I’ve enough money.” He began to walk away.

 

Stuffing the last in her bag, she chased after him with a curious, “Trinkets…?”

 

“Oh, would you like a story or two?”

 

“Please!”

 

A laugh and he paused as she caught up with his long strides and with a tug of her arm to link it with his, guided her along the pier. “Well now, let’s think…”

 

.

 

“Do you dance, Prince?”

 

Sebastian raised a brow. “Of course.”

 

“Would you with me? Tap of the feet to the beat instead of being on that seat? If only for a song?”

 

For a moment, he was unsure how to respond. Could she even dance? She was holding her hand out with a smile on her face. He supposed that must mean something. And he did enjoy the act of dancing. It had been a while. He got up, going over to an old vinyl player he had in the corner and putting on, turned to her. Künstlerleben came on, and she smiled at him, ready to waltz. First, however, she took off her jacket and hooded top, leaving her in some horrid mixed-texture t-shirt and skirt and boots. He couldn’t help but think she’d look better in silk. He came over to her and said in a derisive voice, “Remind me to get you a decent frock, woman.”

 

“Get me a decent frock, male.”

 

“Perhaps I should have one brought up now?”

 

“If you can do it… Go for it.”

 

Pausing, he did indeed go to his phone.

 

And in forty minutes, she was measured, her skin tone taken, and a piece of clothing made for her – or at least taken from some sort of warehouse. She was dressed in a ballroom dress of black silk, something that pressed her chest up with a slit high up on her left leg and sleeves only around her upper arms and heels on her feet. It felt awkward because she couldn’t fight in it, too restricting and too beautifying. Lovely, but damn if her senses weren’t flying around the place and she was ready to rip it up and chuck her heels away for bare feet. Or at least crack the heels off. A shame to think as such as they were such pretty, pretty shoes.

 

Sebastian approved. She looked slovenly before (what she’d call casual and undoubtedly something the Anarchs would approve of, _ugh_ ) but now, despite lack of makeup and hair done, she showed she had a very pleasing figure his Ventrue side liked. She cut good angles from her training, and her vampire side only enhanced that. “Dance, my dear?”

 

“I shall be the ballerina on your music box.”

 

Sebastian took her in his arms after he restarted the vinyl and started to swing her around. Suddenly, he realised how much he missed this, how well she danced, and how easily they flowed over the dancefloor. He let the song play over and over again, and then he changed it to others, enjoying the dance, of how she’d simply closed her eyes and let him guide her all over his office. He loved this, and she laughed at some things she messed up. She was an advanced student, but not a master like he was. He happily taught her better during those few hours.

 

“I would have us do this more,” Sebastian murmured as the song finished and they stopped.

 

Ivy was happy. “Yes. I would like to dance more. Can we do more dancing each night?”

 

“I would be delighted to.”

 

.

 

The week after, Ivy parted from Sebastian after their nightly dancing, and gave a short curtsy to him, knowing Sebastian would like it, proved by his face being a bit superior. “As often as we can, Prince, shall I dance with you. But shall I go to the Cargo ship for you?”

 

“Yes. Go to the Dane now. Keep the dresses. I shall have more for you soon, so we may dance properly.”

 

A traditional martial bow to him, and Ivy did so.

 

.

 

It practically slammed into her, the powerful scent of all that blood.

 

Ivy swayed after talking to the shady Police Officer that thought she was a journalist and demeaned her outfit of skater skirt, boots, leather jacket and blouse, because there was… a lot of blood. She tucked the report into a plastic sleeve and carefully put it into the bag she had that hung from her hip, the strap over her torso horizontally. She shook her head, the scent of wasted food making her hungry and disappointed. She swiftly went on, breaking into the computers directory with the password given to her. Getting more reports, she copy and saved it all. There was also a ship manifest… but where?

 

It took some time, but she found the Records Room that was only a minute’s walk from there. That was all she needed.

 

Yet… She wanted to _see_ it.

 

A smile, with blood being used up to push into Obfuscate, and the voices guided her along to the sarcophagus.

 

It was a big hefty thing and she took out her digital camera, silently going around the police officers to take snaps. Camera focused, and she took close-up detailed pictures, and farer out ones, intending on finding Beckett or checking out the library to do some research. She wasn’t a big fan of literary pursuits or much of the humanities, ever trained in the arts since she was a child in her father’s gym, but she liked ancient history since she was a kid. Her dad had regaled her with tales of ancient China, which eventually involved other societies from so far ago. If this was Ankaran, to her mind that meant Ankara which was present day Turkey’s capital city. Which meant the people of there, which would likely be the Assyrians, Babylonians, or Mesopotamians.

 

She’d look up royalty lines, burial traditions and, looking at the side of the stately coffin, perhaps mythological deities, too.

 

Her eyes took in the bloody handprints. That had definitely been opened. But by who? Voices whispered to her as she touched it, warning of danger inside, but unable to agree what ‘danger’ it was. It caused a headache, and so she backed off and away to go back.

 

She had what she wanted.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things Malkie-V says;
> 
> Dreaming Spires; a name for Oxford.
> 
> Auld Reekie; name for Edinburgh
> 
> Lovestone; the plant ivy grows and clings to stone and is called sometimes called lovestone. ( 'cause it loves stone I guess?) and also bindwood. (binds itself to wood, probs) Lovestone is also a surname of a neurologist in Oxford. It fit pretty well, methinks.
> 
> Bacchus; Greek God known for wine, agriculture, fertility, drama (theatre). Like said up top, Bacchus traditionally wore ivy on him in a wreath to prevent drunkenness; the plant is also sacred to him.
> 
> Therianthropist; mythological ability of people to shapeshift into animals.
> 
> Other things confusing are that way on purpose.


	3. Connectivity Issues

* * *

 

 

The fledgling didn’t quite return straight to Sebastian.

 

Instead, Ivy went to the library, Dominating a night-shift guard into dismantling cameras for the night, and rushing to find appropriate books. It’s when she had about ten books that she felt she had enough, shoving most she could in her bag and going to make her way to her apartment given by the Prince. It’s only when she spotted another likely section she made a sound of want. Malkavian instincts urged her to take. So, she did, piling on books onto her small but now enlarged pile. Mostly satisfied, she awkwardly leant them against her front and turned with the lot - and she spotted a curious wolf-man watching her in amusement at her predicament, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. There were giggles in her mind, stronger than the last handful of days she'd been a Malk combined.

 

“Pretty pooch!” She grinned and then it went a bit sheepish when he raised a brow and tilted his head at her current activities. “Ahaha… you saw nothing.” She quickly went into a different aisle, only for the man to follow. _Sauntering_ , really.

 

That was an attractive walk.

_God,_ he was good-looking.

 

She quickened her step, trying not to be flushed in front of her infatuation.

 

“Come now, Lovestone. I may be able to help,” He called from behind, clearly having fun from his voice, his steps loud and daunting to her.

 

“You like to leave no stone unturned, yet how about _this stone_ doesn’t get turned, _love?_ ” A chuckle from too close quarters, and she realised long legs really were an unfair advantage sometimes as she turned the spines to her body where he couldn’t see this. “Hm?”

 

“An enjoyable line,” His voice drawled out, “Malkavian words can be rather poetic and witty from time to time, I see.”

 

“Time to time he says! Time to leave and go bye-bye, I say. Bye-bye!” She walked quicker.

 

Beckett wasn’t about to let her get away. “Petty thievery, Miss Lovestone?” He mocked, following.

 

A laugh and she kept going. “Happens more often than you think!” She joked, only for a large white wolf with almost grey-green highlights to lope around her quickly with a brush of his fur against her bare leg and block her when she still walked, swiftly turning back into humanoid form to loom over her, a smirk on his features. She ducked her chin, looking up at him like a deer caught in headlights, knowing he knew what that did to her. That she fancied the living hell out of him. The man had dark hair, that also came from greenish low-lights, now she looked and admired. He was _so_ damn striking to her. “I… I have no time to play ball, canis lupus.” It’s then he agilely plucked the first book. “Ah, no-no! Bad puppy!”

 

Beckett smiled, ignoring her admonishments. “It is good to see another research. So little attempts are made when there is political power to be obtained.” He took her in, head slowly pulling down to eye her over his glasses. He could only hope it delivered the effect he wanted it to. That she found it something to blush over. She was so sweet when she was flustered. He wanted more of it.

 

Ivy stopped from swallowing, knowing he’d hear it. She wished it didn’t make her hot. “The Game is to be played, I understand, yes. Yet I don’t have the manual guide to playing, and I don’t know if my dice match up with theirs, so best to make my own handbook.”

 

“Is that so?” He wondered of Ivy and took her in for a moment and flicked through the book. He seemed to decide something then and there. “This is useless for us.” He put it back in a random shelf. “Ignore the Babylonian ones, it is too late a timeframe for the sarcophagus.”

 

“Us, huh? Er, Becks, there may have been words in the obituaries of past lineages?” She wondered, shifting to the side a bit.

 

“Agreed, but best to put your time now into more likely avenues. Assyrians.” He took the next as he said that, again shaking his head, putting it in a different shelf to reach for the one on top now.

 

Looking at her choices when she held then away from her, Ivy frowned a little as she also plucked a couple books from her hold, Beckett helping to put them away. “Do you walk this road with me, or are you across the street and throwing paper airplane notes?”

 

The man looked at her for a moment as she tugged another book away from her hold. “Am I on your side, are you asking?”

 

The martial artist stilled for a moment. “Ah, nothing so trusting so quick, but one less potential knife in the back would be nice,” She remarked wistfully, shifting from side to side as she got rid of the last useless book from her pile. “The Sabbat tried to party with me, like you said, but they could not dance. Yet I like to do more than to dance the dances. Not many do, like you said, and you seem to be one of them. So, do you dance with me, or another? Or-”

 

“You are cute when you ramble, Miss Lovestone. And your fangs come out so adorably.” Beckett chuckled to himself, watching her with a warm gaze as he found two more books and gave them to her on her pile against her chest.

 

“Jack’o’Smiles agrees.”

 

The wolf-man raised a brow. “Oh?”

 

“He said my fangs are cute when I first got them.” She bared them to him.

 

The smile that played around his lips couldn’t seem to vanish in her presence. “Indeed so. Congratulations.”

 

“Are always in order, yes. You’re welcome.” She cheekily grinned and made her way on silently.

 

That made him laugh and look to get another book into the shelf until he realised she’d begun a runner and cursed under his breath with a little smirk on his face, shoving a new book he caught a glance at in his bag and changing to his lupine form. She was out of the building by the time he’d caught up, rushing down an alleyway in a more than semi-decent Obfuscation for a fledgling carrying a lot of things. His senses other than sight and hearing could find her however, and he swiftly changed, grabbing her around the waist and hoisting her up into her arms and grabbing her legs by the knees in a bridal hold. The books on her would probably hurt at the movement if she wasn’t kindred. “Nearly. Good try.” He smirked at her reappearing with a grimace and easily walked away with her. “Luckily enough, we’re near my little hidey-hole for this city.”

 

“Aww, is mother Beckett bringing a pup to the den?” She teased, making him scoff.

 

“If so, only you’d be allowed and it would not be me as the mother or pup, dear mate.” He squeezed, playing with her. Though when he said mate… he felt good with it. Felt it began to mean something.

 

Damn.

 

Not good. He shouldn’t just begin to like someone so quickly after 300 years of experience. He should be better! But, but she was so wonderful to him. Happy and optimistic, sassy and just so wonderfully Malk without it being a hardship. He liked that cheer and joking around. Had it missing in his life.

 

And _oh_ did his beast like her so _much_.

 

A complete sense of dearly missing her when she went and an utter wish to touch her when she wasn’t happened.

 

Beckett wasn’t quite sure what to do with that knowledge.

 

Her cheeks couldn’t blush, but she still had habits of looking flustered, and was peering to the side at what he said. Wolf dens were for mother and pup only, and only the mother was allowed in. So there was every chance he was flirting greatly with her, saying he would be dad. “Bad puppy. No biting.”

 

It made him chuckle, jumping down into a sewer man hole he’d left open, having intended on getting the books she held in her arms. It was useful for her to have attained them in his stead so he didn’t need to go searching, and to have a little assistant helping him unravel this ‘ _Ankaran Sarcophagus is a portent of Gehenna_ ’ nonsense would only be a bonus. Honestly. He rather wished people of such long lifespans would think better. They weren’t humans anymore and had time to develop talents of the mind and sceptical, critical thinking. But it seemed even this new fledgling had caught onto the fact kindred would rather play power games than delve into the mysteries of the world and was disappointed by them.

 

It had him leaning towards supporting her, and with an ability to fight, get things done, and make her own way, he was rather happy to do so.

 

A cute, coy smile and attitude didn’t hurt for him to want to work with her either.

 

Again, he thought he was rather past that, but, alas no, she was attractive to him.

 

…He needed to stop thinking about her like that.

 

Red eyes took her in as she peered about the sewers curiously.

 

Not that he could find himself begrudging himself for it, he thought, looking down when her head turned to look upside down at the water, her long hair swishing around his hips as she fooled around by leaning far back over his arm. It was nice to be around a Malkavian that didn’t consistently scream about end days or show signs of angry madness or gibber on incessantly. This playfulness was far more welcome. And the innocent flirtation without expectation was a great bonus. Her leg began to bounce and she hummed some sort of tune he was sure he’d heard before on the radio. “Careful, now.”

 

“Careful continuously, I am. With some breaks.”

 

“Then it’s not continuously, no?”

 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, woofers.”

 

He ducked through a hole with a smirk at her answer and into a side room which had been previously an old cubby-hole for some Nosferatu. There was a rickety bed he’d found a new blanket for, some fluffy rug partially under and next to it, and a desk with a beat-up old computer on it. It was a small but protective room that needed no more than this for the adventurous kindred. Good for one not staying for long, and no way for sunlight to get in, either.

 

Her legs wiggled in a sign of wanting to get free and he dropped her legs, keeping an arm around her waist so the books didn’t fall all over the place.

 

With genteel manners, he took half.

 

“Thanks.” She placed the books on the desk with him copying and focused on them. “I’m going to try a vamp trick on them.” She wanted to impress him a little.

 

Nothing wrong with wanting to impress your crush, right?

 

Right.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Malks natural ability to see which is best. Which is most efficient for us, yes? I wasn’t sure before with a selection such as thus in a public place, but here?” She waved at the books. Her Willpower rose to try and help her detect which would be greatest for their shared research, but her blood drained slightly. Perhaps she went the wrong way with him watching, but she accidentally locked into the Malkavian Network and suddenly, the whispers in her head, able to be ignored, rose in chorus. It welled up and washed over her without her able to stop it. It made her stumble to the ground with a whimper as noise shrieked and slashed through her brain, a tsunami of information that needed to be catalogued.

 

“Ivy?” Beckett’s sharp voice came as she held her head, ducking to her side. He understood instantly when he saw where her hands were placed. “Get your Will out of the network!”

 

_Thousand Masks!_

 

“No, Becks, I… Must listen…” She snagged a small portion of the insanely massive Network with her blood power and focused on it.

 

_Liar! Snake! DEMON!_

_Help him!_

 

_It comes from the wretched betrayers’ handshake!_

_Number one! Leader! First Barmy Ballerina! He does not deserve this!_

 

“You must listen, Lovestone!”

 

But she simply grabbed him and looked at him with panic. “Grout! He is in trouble! There is something-some-some, uh, some sort of deal made!” She listened, swaying to the side. “The deal made to kill Grout! Why?” She hissed, focusing on it, unseeing eyes glowering up at the ceiling cracks. Voices screamed for a second, squabbling. She jerked back, shaking her head rapidly at all of them. It ached in her, pounding from her head and down to her neck and chest. It was a constant and seizing throb. Then she stilled her head, completely done with this as anger palpated through her. “No. That’s _enough shouting_.” With a snarl at them not listening and using her blood she belted out, “ _ENOUGH!_ ”

 

Power exploded into the Network, gaining attention from elsewhere for the show, but it shut the Malkavian’s up, all those who were logged into the Malkavian Network in the area. They were quiet, suddenly mentally watchful of the newest Malk in their midst. More logged in to listen as those that were close brought others into it. The Network was quiet for once, but no less full and heavy with intent as expectation rose.

 

“Good. Quiet as I think.”

 

Beckett watched, having a small understanding of what is going on from his past great friendship with Anatole, and kept quiet. The words weren’t for him, but he would also do so until necessary. She needed it.

 

Ivy sat up and instead hugged Beckett around the chest. It surprised him she knew, but she didn’t care, needing the reach back to real life from the inescapably humungous Network. “Just going to use you as grounding, wolfie. Now tell me what is happening to Primogen Grout,” She commanded of the Network.

 

“I-” Beckett was silenced by a hand gently placed over his mouth, but continued to say softly, “You can speak in the mind only.”

 

Her hand drifted to his shoulder to squeeze it in thanks before wrapping around his chest once more whilst burying her face in his chest, feeling trembly. It felt better to have another person to touch in the real world whilst her mind was partly in the Network. It really did keep her grounded as they talked at her. ‘ _Where is Grout?! Get him on!_ ’ She had no idea what she was doing, but she had some ideas of what to try. She had to help. He was her Primogen right now and she had no other to teach and guide her in these Malk things. And as far as she knew, there was no reason for him to die. Those thoughts tumbled from her without her wanting it, having no expertise in the control of the Network, or at least her part in giving to it and controlling her thoughts, and the Malkavian’s picked up on it as she put her blood discipline in to try and reach him.

 

But it was far too big.

 

The Malk’s saw she would not reach.

 

Until one decided to help.

 

_Isolde._

 

Slowly, Isolde began to put in her energy into the network to help her.

 

Followed by another, and another.

 

A buzz happened, where weak control of energy from them was pushed in to help her get the messages she wanted across, and they carried this message with more energy being entered from others further afield to help it travel further. What happened then was several Malkavian’s in the edges of the city, the few there were, were pleaded by Ivy to converge on Grout’s home to help or at least figure out what was going on. They got the message and did so as they helped coax what they knew was the Primogen’s mind into the link.

 

Grout was raving, broken, fearful; not fully online but certainly seen by all those that gave energy into the Network message.

 

He was mad. They could only try to help the leader of their own of this city.

 

They failed to get him there fully.

 

Personally, Ivy wasn’t aiming for what the rest of the Malk Clan were trying.

 

Beckett squeezed her, as if sensing she was about to do something foolish.

 

Ignoring him and the Malkavian’s, she knew she’d get in herself.

 

With focus, she pushed her blood magic. _Hard._

 

Grout was a force to be reckoned with, her blunt sledgehammer of power matched evenly against his tightly controlled precision.

 

She was beginning to get greatly drained. She pushed away from Beckett, fangs lengthening and tongue lolling out in a desperate for sustenance. She began scrambling into her bag to get out her last two bags of blood. She bit into one, sucking it dry and sending more energy out as soon as it came in. The Malkavian’s buzzed at it, shrieking in joy and fear when the energy flashed through on a previous route that was now easier to navigate after it had been done once. She could then pick up what they were sending. Images of their places. Where Grout lived. What they could do. They greedily watched all she did, feeling her want to protect their own with eagerness to feel more.

 

Then it happened. Grout locked onto the energy coming to him in demand for him to join.

 

With a lunge as Grout’s conscious came online, Ivy locked her power around it and shunted her way into his mind. This Primogen was not a physical fighter, but temporary access to him had her knowing of new abilities of his to try – and she also saved his life when she had him jumping away and falling into a position for her martial arts that blocked several punches easily. Her current body with Beckett just about had enough mind to grab last blood bag and drain it in long drags. She didn’t realise Beckett took the empty plastic from her warily when she stared with eyes turned to the colour of what he presumed was the light silver of the Malkavian Network, her opening and closing mouth biting into nothing.

 

Ivy’s mind was lost in Grout’s mind in the Network.

 

The man attacking was vampire, white tank top, blue shirt, that moustache beard thing… but he was _off_ , somehow. She had Grout’s stronger body duck, twist around and stab the man with his extended vampiric claws, which distorted his image. The other eight Malkavian’s she’d had go to him burst through the doors, and suddenly the illusion dropped from a man attacking, to a Chinese woman in his stead when converged upon. Then Grout’s mind seemed to twitch away from her loosening control and with barely anything left in the kindred magic tank, she wished him luck. Things ploughed into her head, images and knowledge she didn’t want to deal with yet and it’s then she kind of just _collapsed_ forward onto Beckett’s lap.

 

“Ivy!” He turned her over to face upwards.

 

Weakly, she pat his thigh with a fumbling hand, mind eerily blank as she departed from the Network for now. “Gonna just… so quiet now without the great Cobweb… Sorry, wanted to work but too tired.”

 

“It is quite alright. What happened with the Malkavian Primogen?” Beckett urged, stroking hair away from her too-pale face to see her fully.

 

Her eyes closed in response. “Attacked. Set-up. Double set up? Man come to kill him, but lost illusion and this Chinese woman took his place. Didn’t know vampires could glamour.”

 

He took a blood bag out of his preferred taste, pressing it to her mouth and she latched onto it. “They mainly cannot. It is a rare ability. Chinese, you say?”

 

She finished the bag too fast some seconds later after guzzling it down. “Demon woman, they said. Thanks. Will get you another.”

 

“Think nothing of it. So. A Kuei-Jin.” Beckett pursed his lips, not liking this. Not when she could be in trouble. “How are your blood levels?”

 

“Low, even with threetop-ups. Need to feed again. Good thing we don’t urinate anymore,” She mumbled, slowly falling asleep.

 

A small chuckle left him. “Yes, four odd pints in one sitting would be rather painful to dispose of for your bladder.”

 

“What do I do, Beckett?” She wondered.

 

Beckett laid a hand on her shoulder and begun pulling her up. “Sate the thirst before it causes detriments to your life as kindred, first of all. Can’t exactly do much without what keeps us alive, hm?” He smiled at her chuckle as she gave a weakened half smile up at him. “Go. Report to the Prince and come back here to sleep. I will watch over you when you do. Then you can plan. You need rest first.” It would do to get her on his side, if what he thought she’d done was reality. Could she, some mere fledgling of a month or so, truly have used the Network so masterfully? Enough to send energy, to have the Network listen and save Grout from halfway across LA? He helped her up fully, making sure she didn’t fall before he stepped back. “I’ll be waiting here for you.”

 

A tired nod, and she dug into her bag and took the camera out, putting it in his hands. “Pictures of the Sarcophagus are on here. Until later.”

 

Ivy left, with Beckett deciding on silently following, watching as she found someone to drink from, then another someone, and yet a third to drain on but not kill, and then went to the taxi service for Venture Tower.

 

A rumble left him, worried for the young Malk now.

 

She was going to be used when this got out.

 

And his possessive beast was not very happy to have what was now _his_ kindred of _his_ coven in _his_ territory leave so weakened and to be so used by another.

 

His beast declared her his.

 

Beckett sighed.

 

Dear oh dear.

 

What was he to do now, knowing she only crushed on him compared to what his inner beast demanded?

 

That he wanted to _keep?_

 

He frowned, rubbing his eyes from under his sunglasses.

 

_Already?_

 

Too soon, right?

 

Not right, and that was the problem.

 

Yet… His beast had decided, and so would he.

 

Beckett sighed.

 

Kindred life was so very hard to deal with sometimes.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to know what you guys think will happen with the Malkavian Network...!


	4. Demons Got Your Number

 

* * *

 

 

 

The big guy looked down at her with a frown before letting her in the room.

 

Dirtied, a bit ragged looking, and not in her usual spirits, Ivy was not quite up to her regular standard, she knew.

 

It had to be faked.

 

She grinned up at Sheriff, faking the twinkle in her eyes, forcefully putting a pep into her undead Malk step. “Hello, Tiny! How about a fight?” Her voice was quieter than what she wanted.

 

Sheriff grunted, looking into the room, where her gaze followed.

 

Ah.

 

Important Primogen meeting.

 

She cursed not being able to feel them due to her inexperience or youth, or just plain tiredness.

 

Ivy smiled and murmured. “Oh, a gathering of eyes and arms. Maybe not. Wouldn’t want to get limbless,” She giggled. She moved aside with Sheriff when the kindred began to leave, hopping on the back of Sheriff in a half piggy back, who crossed him arms and glowered the Primogen out. They didn’t linger, giving their own distasteful versions of looks back, apart from one. Ivy took in the long red coat, the orange tinted glasses, the bald head, the regal manner of his posture as he stood before them. “Good evening, Primogen! The clocks tick quite tellingly! Please don’t get sunburn.”

 

“The cross-blood.”

 

Uh. _Rude_. She didn’t like that. She smiled anyway. “The one with the two for one deal dealt unto them, yes. I am of Malk and yours.” She leaned over Sheriffs shoulder quite far, balancing her hips on his shoulder, chest aloft and reaching a hand out. “Papa two, for the Malk sings the main verses, the Tremere a feature singer. Perhaps an uncle? It is foggy.”

 

He took it, politely bowing over it in greeting. “I am Maximillian Strauss, neonate. The Tremere Regent of the Chantry of Los Angeles.”

 

“This one _is_ less than four weeks, a neonate. I am Ivy Montgomery, agent, jester, world champion. Also has business with the Prince, however. Might I meet with you soon? To understand my tremors of Tremere? I feel it in the air.” She looked at him, a sort of second-sight seeing those motes once more. Impressed, she remarked, “So controlled around you! Why do you not let magic sing? It would tell you lyrics if you wished to know?” She was very sure it would.

 

Maximillian took her in at that, contemplative at a different form of magic more aligned with Malkavian ways, wondered if he could somehow be able to get a hold of learning it from her. “I believe, neonate, that is something entirely yours to puzzle your way through. I would guide you, as you are Tremere, though out of the Pyramid. Come see me when you can. Farewell, Ivy.”

 

“Sleep well, Primogen Strauss.”

 

Watching the Primogen leave, Sheriff strode over to Sebastian as Ivy rummaged through her bag once more that night and took out the reports and manifesto.

 

The blonde narrowed his eyes at her as Sheriff put her down before him and took his place at the side and behind of the Prince. “I don’t have time for a monologue. Give me the bullet points of what you saw.”

 

Efficient in movement, Ivy handed him the papers in the sleeves as she replied, “Death of all the drunken whalers early in the morning; blood in pools like spilt dreams, horrible waste of food that. A sarcophagus, Ankaran of Ankara, today’s Turkey, once maybe Assyrian or Mesopotamian. History to be looked into, Prince. As is recent history; of the bloodied prints like a trail of an escaped mummified prisoner.”

 

Alarm was on his face. “Opened? Let’s not jump to conclusions-”

 

“Definitely opened, Prince. Had a butcher’s around the butchery. The sealing was disturbed when compared to the rest of the texture it is cut from.”

 

“Butchers?” He frowned and then understood. “Oh, that quaint rhyming slang from London. Which is?”

 

“Butchers hook.”

 

“Ah. Look, yes.” Sebastian pursed his lips as he went through the manifesto. “Hm. Well. I will read into this momentarily. I am sure you noted the malingering mollycoddled kindred that were here? They are the Primogen, the City’s Clan leaders.”

 

That had Ivy looking over her shoulder at the door, wondering how to handle this. “Four of clubs. Where is my Clan leader? Thirteen to be dealt, only four hands laid? Am I not to meet the one that plays my hand? I long to see what his hands are like.”

 

He inclined his head, glad she was learning these things without him, though clearly not enough. Good. Still malleable for his whims then. “Yes, the politics in this city have led there only to be less, though there is meant to be five, your own the last. And missing.”

 

“Dead?” She wondered, tilting her head, but the whispers were quiet. “Nothing mentioned. So quiet. Cracks only of my own mind.” She opened it back up, the Network.

 

Sebastian took her in, careful. “The Network. What do you know of it?”

 

Then voices came back in a sudden barrage, angry, growling at that, and causing her to hiss and hold her head. “Back again! I will not tell, we are not linked.” She glared at the Prince. “What have you done? They do not react to anyone so infuriatedly.”

 

“Are you accusing me of something?”

 

“Not just one. A whole Clan is beginning to,” She murmured in the silent room, swaying heavily as her head pounded. It hurt enough to make her tear duct bleed and she held her face. Tears she knew he saw before she covered. “Urk. It hurts.”

 

The Prince was still with internal horror that his plans could go awry. No! This could not be unravelled by his own agent and her insane, cracked mind! He locked his jaw and watched the pain on her face. “You claim the Clan is accusing me? That is a grave undertaking you’re beginning, fledgling.”

 

“My personal kindred lifetime means nothing in the face of Malkavian Networking. I begin nothing, I’m a mouth piece that is continuing,” She blurted out and the raised her face to him. Her exhaustion in trying to save her Primogen that she so hoped to learn and be part of the Clan was for nothing. Grout had died because of the man before hers’ dealings, despite her trying her best to help save him. “My Primogen had his final death. She floats, why does she float? Wife? To stop her dying? She is naught but a relic in a museum at that point. Dead, so much death?” Then she felt a sorrow from one of the Malkavian’s. Yes, Grout’s ashes lay on some bed, and his dead wives ashes were on the ground from intruding Kuei-Jin that had died from before the Malk’s sent in could get to Grout. ‘ _Gather the ashes of both and bury them together. Let them be together in the Final Death._ ’

 

_She escaped!_

_Vile demon! Hunt her down!_

_We cannot let them get away with this!_

 

“Miss Montgomery! Listen to me when I am speaking to you!” He was scowling, but it let up when she peered at him through hazy eyes, fully bloodied and hard to see through. “It seems there is Seer in you. An Oracle ability that is entirely Malkavian,” He further elucidated for her. “You are certain he is dead? Do you know who did it?”

 

“A demon in numbered skin.”

 

“Demon in numbered… Numbered? Nines? Kuei-Jin?” He clenched his fists, pointedly ignoring the demon part. “Hark my words clearly, Miss Montgomery. If this means the Kuei-Jin have tried to take on the form of Nines Rodriguez, then this means war on the Kuei-Jin. Do you claim to have seen it?”

 

The voices rumbled at that, displeased at the lack of trust in her and in them and their ability. “My mind speaks to me in words and images of truth. The last of my Primogen is gone. Your disinclination to trust us leads to thoughts of rebellion. Malkavian were always advisors to Ventrue! How dare you question our history! Our Clan Leader was maddened beyond most of us in his final moment and murdered to second death. How dare you accuse us of lying! They _scream_ against this injustice!” She stumbled again. “No more, enough. How dare you _test_ us? Tomorrow. I come back tomorrow.” She gave a bow, almost falling over. “ _Prince_.”

 

The Frenchmen, wise enough not to push, nodded. He’d use this time to plan and plot. “Tomorrow at eleven.” He watched her go as she wiped away blood from her face. He had to keep this woman on his side. He liked her, but this was beyond a new friendship. A shame she said anything. He’d have liked another trusted companion like Sheriff. He would miss their dances and talks and love of classical music to dance and listen to. How rare it was to have someone like her, just for him to have to erase her to protect himself.

 

Sebastian sighed out, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

 

He really didn’t want to do this to her. He’d had enough with backstabbers and just wanted one person there as friend. Soppy or pathetic as that sounded, but he’d been doing this Prince role for decades with no one but a bodyguard to trust. There had to be some other way of protecting their friendship and his position.

 

But what?

 

.

 

Ivy woke up the next day, exhausted, her phone beeping its’ alarm clock.

 

She tiredly reached for it, but a hand took it, turning it off for her. “Hm?”

 

“Welcome back to the world of the unliving, Lovestone.”

 

The woman smiled at Beckett’s drawling tone, opening her eyes to the see the back of his head reading through another book as he sat against the bed, his knee up. “Hello, pretty pooch.” She couldn’t help but reach out and slide her arms around his shoulder and bicep, leaning a chin on the free shoulder. She gently coaxed and brought his arms up to see which part he was on. “Ah. Marriage between gods and goddesses.” She sighed out, lowering her hands and letting go of his, but not of his body. “Much has happened, no? I would ask for news on Camarilla, but I’d much rather listen to the sounds of your dulcet voice painting a pretty picture of ancient times.” His lips rose at that, she felt more than saw. “Any portraits, Becks?”

 

“My prior thoughts led me to an old King, Messerach, but the pictures you showed me… Lamashtu. A goddess. Do you know of her?”

 

“My ears have never witnessed the sound Lamashtu.”

 

“A demonic goddess, a daughter of the Sky God Anu, she was known for menacing women in childbirth and usually holding snakes. Sound familiar?” He asked rhetorically, putting the open book in one hand and showing the camera with the picture she took with the other.

 

She took the picture in, humming. “My eyes have heard that song.”

 

Beckett smirked and put the tech to the side. “One wonders if you sometimes put the Malk madness on a little?”

 

“One could, theoretically, use Will to twiddle the difficulty setting. Why mess too much with what works when there are no causes necessitating either extremes? And I thought you _liked_ my Malk voice.”

 

“Only on Tuesdays.”

 

It made her chuckle. “Beckett is a lying liar who lies. It’s very clearly on Odin’s day if today is the day of Thor,” She noted pointedly, with him chuckling. She grabbed and looked at her phone, lifting her arms familiarly wrapped around him to lean the forearm of one against his upper back. Malk’s felt connected to people they liked very quickly, the voices told her when she wondered of it, because they knew them so well from subconsciously reading them more often and making those bonds due to it. She spoke more to him, and that made her like him more. Her eyes narrowed. Two hours until she had to see Sebastian. “I must go wander off to the Prince soon. I have a short amount of time and would be happy to spend it reading with you.”

 

A library book was tossed her way in answer.

 

A smile and she settled by his side instead of on the bed, cheekily leaning her back on his arm as she opened the pages. But, soon enough, getting into the history of Assyrians, she ended up leaning forward over the book and jerked when her alarm went again. “Bah.” She left the book open on death ceremonies for him. “Bye pooch. Play fetch with me later on?”

 

“I shall find you, I’m sure.” He nodded in acquiescence. His red eyes watched as she left, and after some moments of his subconscious pushing, he got up to follow. His inner beast growled to protect the weaker fledgling now it realised he’d brought this same female into his sleeping territory twice when he’d only ever done that with two others, and one of them was under a spell (a woman he never wanted to think of again) and the other, Lucita, was with another. This was different. This was the first time it had happened to him, his beast so unruly and demanding of her presence as pack, and a high ranking pack member at that, equal to his own. Beckett grimaced at his beast and thoughts but couldn’t deny it was now happening.

 

He could only hope he didn’t begin to acquire long-lasting feelings for her.

 

Beckett grumbled to himself, grouchy with his beast that was happy to now be trailing a member of its’ coven for their protection.

 

Too late for that, he knew.

 

He could only hope she responded the same. His beast acted like never before. He was head over heels for the woman so quickly.

 

Ivy had found a person to glut on and turned to him, licking the neck without thought to heal, and his lips twitched to purse into a thin line when he found that more attractive than it need be. “Lupe?”

 

“I should like to join you for tonight.”

 

“I’m going to mine, to wash and change after I get new threads?”

 

A simple shrug was his reply. He didn’t mind. “I brought a book.”

 

Ivy smiled at him, warm and pleased.

 

Why did it have to make him feel gooey on the inside?

 

He barely had any as it is, ugh.

 

Still, Beckett followed with a smile.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just found out someone pretty much copy/pasted my work of Hallucinations and Cackles, changed a few words and tried to pass it off as their own. It's thrown me off my wish to post any more VtMB, so if you don't see much updates from me, or any at all, that's why.


	5. Updates!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hesitantly and slowly, I shall update.
> 
> I have my thoughts about the works of the one who copied my stuff but... Well, here's another post.
> 
> You've been awfully kind, those who commented on the copying. I'm grateful!

 

* * *

 

 

Good thing he had joined her, the Gangrel thought to himself, as there was a gaggle of kindred in the Prince’s room.

 

Most of them, Beckett acknowledged, were Malkavian.

 

… _Ah_. _Right._

 

When the two of them had come in, all of the Malkavian’s at once turned to Ivy with unblinking eyes. This had the Primogen following suit, with the Prince and Sheriff following lastly, furthest to the back of the room. The woman hesitated for a bewildered moment, staring back at them, and then slowly stepped forward, the first few Malkavian’s skittering back to give her space, only to closely follow once more as she went by them. In turn, it seemed like they were forming a protective corps around her. The last one, a woman with a wide grin and jittering eyes, gently grasped her face with both hands.

 

_Isolde._

 

Terrifying, old - cooing?

 

“Our baby Primogen! Prince, look, we chose well!” The Malkavian snickered, smooshing her cheek to Ivy’s and rubbed up and down. “Do it again! Make us hear! Make us united!”

 

“Uh…” She lightly went into her own Madness, gently touching the Network and strumming the lines of the closest. It made them all chatter and giggle behind her. “Guitar notes from the string?” She asked any and all of them.

 

“Plucked!” The crowd of them called back as one, cackling afterwards.

 

It made her grin and join in with the giggles as emotions flashed along the Network and let the Network connections become easier to navigate between Ivy and them. Her ability allowed them to do so as, without even realising it, Ivy began to teach them how to do so by doing it herself. Others a little afar feeling this also began to try and link in, picking up how emotions were flying in their curiosity. It was when an odd presence of flaring charcoal curiously joined with such a heavy, powerful aura that Ivy couldn’t help but fall to the ground in utmost fear. The Malkavian’s shrieked and converged around her, covering her body and each other, trying to mentally battle it back. It soothed her even as half of the other seven non-Malk called out in alarm.

 

When she gently reached out along the mental line, offering a cautious hello, all of them yelped when a hello came back, amusing it.

 

But it offered words of welcome, of teaching, of warmth.

 

Naïve, perhaps, todo her next move, but Ivy reached out in wonderment.

 

The heady, filling, rotund energy stroked back, as one would to play with a kitten.

 

It made her widely smile wildly and she whirled through the links of the Cobwebs, sliding along with ease to get to _him_. The one that had always been there, away, hidden, hopelessly watching. It felt as though her mind was picked up under the arms like a child and she reached out to hug the paternalistic figure even against the worried shrieking in the reality around her. She ignored it, foolish maybe, but she felt oddly rejuvenated. Felt like she was maturing in some curious and otherworldly way. How splendid this was… She felt like she was almost dancing amongst sweets and cupcakes and cheesecake for how sugary delightful the Cobweb was now to be in, the old lines brushed out from insidious tangles. The male feeling power showed her what to do and it seemed like it smiled back when she instantly got it, laughing in her mind.

 

 _Immediately_ got it, but then _warped_ it, and felt the vaguest stirrings of pleasure from this man at her getting it so instantly without much push.

 

He was impressed.

 

Ivy was rapturous in the joyous thrumming of the Cobwebs of her mind.

 

And so at feeling it, the Malkavian’s did not stay fearful long at feeling that to the one they connected, and the chattering in the Network began with enchanted curiosity, information passing lightning quick between them all until it… the Network it-

 

The Scotswoman stared as she realised it could _change_.

 

Ivy grasped it and twisted it with a mix of her specific Malkavian instincts, the Tremere blood magic, and the lesson from the unknown aura of absolute power.

 

Then it _clicked._

 

The Network changed, _strengthened_.

 

It blasted out to all around her, energy vibrating loud and powerful like a guitar at a metal concert and the Malkavian’s were in the audience and riveted by the music played.

 

‘ _Hello?_ ’ Ivy asked in her head.

 

Suddenly, the whispers had become controlled, telepathy normal and real and able to click on and off the Network.

 

It’s like the system updated, or…

 

“What on earth just happened?” Sebastian demanded as the group got up, chattering manically in and out of the Network. “What is wrong? Quiet!” They didn't, chattering louder still. He fluffed up a bit, infuriated at the lack of respect.

 

“A broken fragment fixed,” The woman, who Ivy now knew as Isolde that squished faces with her, answered with a wide smile. “Less madness!” She whispered, looking around feeling different. Then she was suddenly hugging Ivy who looked up at the head taller woman in a mystified manner. “You lead! You must!” She demanded, half desperate, half wondrous.

 

“I think any of you has more than enough ability, especially _you_ Isolde,” Ivy said, wanting to duck out of it instantly. Only wanted to improve as the male aura went. She pulled away, almost lonely from it gone, only to get snagged by the much older woman.

 

“No! Lady Atrax! Weave!” Isolde sent the image of a spider, the most venomous one, in the local Network.

 

The image flew in and along the Cobwebs so well, the Children of Malkav chattered excitedly behind her.

 

The Network was altered; different areas were different webs connecting to one massive whole over the world. The whole network was changing so slowly right now. The Network was trying to link it all together smoothly like it had for their local link of the twenty-two of them and this foundation area of the Network, but soon more cities would pick up on the updated version. Malkavian’s would copy their local version here to the next town, and then those Malkavian’s would send out information from two places to others that hadn’t yet reformed, then the next cities surrounding them, and then on it would go on until the whole Network of Malkavian’s were on an updated operating system, for lack of better terminology.

 

“No, no-no-no-no.” Ivy held her hands up.

 

“It is _you_ we chose.”

 

“This is some utter rubbish. I cannot guide anything and-”

 

“You are it,” Another, Verge, commented with surety. “You are right for it. We are very glad you like to copulate,” He remarked, getting giggles from his fellow Malkavian’s and a dry look from his newly-made Primogen, and he finished off in his head, _It gave us the right mix of ability and blood for the power to greaten our link. A shame we cannot change, but we already have, have we not?_

 

The Malkavian’s called out with hilarity, “Not!” and cackled once more.

 

Ivy coughed into her fist, grinning.

 

“Enough! We will have answers!” LaCroix demanded, silencing them for only a moment before they laughed once again.

 

And then the laughter silenced itself and vampiric hisses and growls emerged, startling the Primogen watching.

 

"Might we know the issues?" Primogen Strauss asked, looking them over, and Ivy locked amused eyes with him, giving him a wink. He tilted his head at her, and she giggled, until she quickly cleared her throat. His lip twitched. A cute Acolyte.

 

“You made the answer clear, Prince!” One brave Malkavian spoke up first.

 

“Deal with demons!”

 

“Tong spoke quite joyfully about it!”

 

“Bosom buddies with the Camarilla, then betray!”

 

“Frame the numbered one!”

 

“Anarchs will rue the day!”

 

Strauss scowled. This was not so cute.

 

Sebastian held his chin up at the looks of the Primogen. “I have-”

 

The Malkavian’s laughed again, the sounds echoing harshly and hauntingly as it cut him off. “We saw, we _saw!_ Do you _deny our abilities, once Ally?_ ”

 

“You seek to out-see the Seers with words?” Isolde laughed in the manic way of her Clan, grin vicious and fangs lengthening as she stepped forth. “Tut tut!”

 

Ivy clenched her jaw, taking this all in, with hands behind her in fists touching knuckles to knuckles. Unsure what to do for the moment she wondered and watched.

 

The Malkavian’s cackled and hooted and hollered at him and the whole room seemed to start becoming a war zone.

 

No.

 

This wouldn’t do.

 

“Enough,” Ivy spoke softly, and the room of noisy Malkavian’s instantly hushed as she stared at Sebastian and they all stared at her, which the others took immediate note of. Nothing was said for a tense moment. Then Ivy stepped forward, Isolde bowing and stepping back, bright eyes fervent on Ivy’s form, hands twitching as she looked upon her Primogen. “You made an alliance with the Kuei-Jin. Take out Grout, and frame Nines by using the Kuei-Jin Xiao Ming’s abilities to do so…” She narrowed her eyes. ‘ _A man who I’ve still not met yet_ ,’ She pondered to herself. Which meant to the Network. Who promptly delivered as she then got images from the group, memories of the man in question. “Hm.” She idly thought about his arms being nice, though not as nice as Beckett’s, getting snickers from the group and had to sigh at what was now her life.

 

They’d better stay out of her flirting with her pretty pooch, and _not look at him_.

 

One guilty Malk at the back looked forward again, a sheepish grin on her face.

 

Isolde giggled, tugging on a brown-red bit of Ivy’s hair. “So cute! Prima Baby!” Her warm emotions came over the Network, and Ivy was struck with the understanding that from being able to read each other like an open book now, feeling all their emotions… it was hard not to easily trust someone. Who they were came across in their thoughts, their feelings about something clear when the thought and intention came over in the Network. Wow. It took her aback. It made her feel like melting into the Network with them.

 

Verge wondered out loud, “Yet then what was planned, Prince? An attack on Anarchs?” Some of her Malkavian’s hissed at that in disagreement, those that were Anarch’s themselves.

 

Sebastian snapped out at Ivy, “You speak as if you’ve knowledge and experience-”

 

“One more than the other,” Isolde huffed. “She will have our information and Seer powers at her disposal. Experience? It will come. We’ve enough for her.”

 

“Why Miss Montgomery?” The Nosferatu wondered, a grin in his voice. “She has shown skill not in leadership but in being a _fighter_.”

 

“We know,” Verge said strongly, the room echoing with his loud, low voice. “We are rather good at information collection like yourselves, Nosferatu Primogen, and we have come back into our right.” A mad smirk widened his face almost demonically, and then he snapped his eyes to the Prince as he came to the front next to Isolde and a little behind his Leader. “Now, let us return to the point of the Kuei-Jin like a Chinese table as it turns by hands. For now _do_ the tables turn. They are weak now, with a highly damaged top. Then we come back and decide your fate, _Prince who would ally with demons._ ”

 

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, stating sharply, “I expected Alistair Grout to survive and would thus begin our war with the Kuei-Jin to get them out of our city. Reports of their expansion, their growing numbers compared to our own? It is a threat that must be dealt with, and soon.”

 

“Cards held so close, we wonder if you write your own numbers on them,” Isolde huffed but then pointedly stated, “Perhaps they all picture the Joker card, Jester Prince!”

 

Cackles again, even from the Nosferatu and the Primogen from somewhere she didn’t know. “No outright insults please,” Ivy said softly, and Isolde bowed her head. “I still retain a sense of fair play.” She smiled at the near-silent chuckle from Beckett at the back a Malk heard and sent along to her in the Network. “Regardless of deals, Kuei-Jin is a threat, and the Queen is weakened. Can we expect our numbers not to be slashed from a retributing Kuei-Jin from afar lands? What are the consequences for the action of war you wished to prompt, Prince?”

 

_Is there Kuei-Jin Backup? Any factions near?_

 

“You know war?”

 

Ivy’s jaw clenched as her eyes flashed. “Would it help these questions come from another of my Clan that is older than _you_ to respect them and their veracity and relevance? I have several who can be my mouth-box. Or will you ignore them and let us dangle on our strings to be cut, leaving half a theatre to bray commands at when they burn us to cinders?” Her madness began to come back in her annoyance. Something heightened by the fact they’d been something close to good friends in her mind, which rattled the Malkavian’s who heard the thought. “Is this the blade which the Prince on thin ice wishes to skate on?”

 

Isolde stepped forward, hands behind her. “There are no factions close, but word could be sent out to virtual twittering boxes of mail as we dawdle. Malkavian wish to fight, to flex, to gain fear. It seems to have been lost in the post to this Camarilla postcode. Respect goes-” She paused, thinking. _We go?_

 

The Malkavian’s chattered, outwardly making noises for each way it could go and Ivy waited patiently, staring forward at the windows before her.

 

 _No opinion?_   Verge wondered of her.

 

 _My people’s majority choice is to be my choice in matters like this if I’m to be Primogen. Choose well for me. I have nothing to give you but the Network. No business, no reputation, no money, no home, no experience. I am no good for you-_ Denial roared, that the group here were willing to bring together their own fortunes with them, that more would come. They would be curious, they would see, spread word; assets would come that would look after them. That it had to be her as their leader was unanimously decided. Something she didn’t understand at all. _I don’t know about business. Or what you need. Decide by yourselves. I will do my best by you in improving Malkavian power and name._

 

“Hands over eyes!”

 

To show it, she moved away, putting hand over eyes for the Malk’s and removing herself from the discussion, something they appreciated. “Apologies for the delay, Prince and Primogen and Sheriff and therianthropist, they’re making an important choice.”

 

“What choice?” The Prince asked warily.

 

“The future of Malkavian here in LA.”

 

Sebastian grit his teeth. “What choices are available?”

 

Ivy gave a smile full of teeth. “I’m sure you know them all, Prince, considering your vast years. Why would what I say be of any care to you? It _demonstrably_ hasn’t. It’s only been what I can physically do, no? Certain tunes to dance to?”

 

While she couldn’t see the glower her way, she sure could feel it.

 

There came a point where there was a decision made.

 

Verge took her hand gently and brought it down, smiling normally, bright green eyes offset by darkest ink black hair on a pale beautiful face. Isolde smiled widely at her, giggling by his side. The duo spoke in unison. “Primogen. We have decided.”

 

“As you wish, Verge, Isolde, my darling Malkies.”

 

A flicker of blood, and Isolde, the oldest woman in the room, seemed to gain her power and experience in an instant, letting it filter out and cloud the room in a hefty cloud that palpated and grasped all in the room. It flared around like a charged storm and drew complete attention. Power and prestigious ability held all down but the Malkavian's, who laughed and giggled, joyous in the feeling of it. “If there is no respect for our Primogen, then she will not be Primogen. The Malkavian Cobweb has spoken. She will be Baron.” The words were growled out, echoing and decreeing.

 

Ivy closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she hadn’t come, feeling the responsibility pile on her when she had no foundation to hold it up.

 

Verge squeezed her hand, mentally promising fealty.

 

Her eyes widened.

 

The blond Prince tried not to let fear show as her power pulsed before returning to her form, leaving behind a giggly Isolde once more, who knew what she did, showing what she _could_ do. This was what the Malkavian’s were like before the Great Prank! Damn it all! He quickly spoke, trying to get back control, “There is no need to be hasty-”

 

“You mock us our wisest choice whilst so blind by your own power-mongering,” Verge spat in distaste as he sneered his way. “Your words have consequences. Do not think we will not _rip_ them from your reputation and your _mind_. Baron’s and Primogen’s work for their own, and our one has done nothing less than that, and so much more than Grout’s decades already. You need no more than _our_ word, Prince, for it is worth more than your own currently is. Now,” He snarled out, teeth lengthening, _“Answer our questions._ ”

 

Seeing a room full of Kindred demanding answers – the other Primogen haven’t said no – and no way to get out of it, Sebastian capitulated. He gave a bow their way, stately and proud. “My apologies to clan Malkavian, and to their leader, Ivy Montgomery. I shall tell you all I know of the Kuei-Jin and the movements, if it is agreed we go to war with them.”

 

“We know their movements and _then_ we’ll choose if we go to war,” Gary replied, arms crossed. “None of us want our numbers depleted. It’s like little boss said,” The Nosferatu continued casually, nodding to the new Primogen, “Can’t have ‘em punch back when we’re weakened. Who knows what’ll happen then?” He almost mocked, looking at the large amount of Malk’s. “But some group might have the ability to look into the future. And guess who’s chasing them off? Any guesses, _Prince?_ ”

 

Sebastian sighed, and thinking of no other way to beat around the bush or use deceit or manipulation, he bowed to power here. He began with all he knew of the Kuei-Jin, with Gary and the other Primogen inserting comments or nodding every once in a while in agreement, and the Malkavian’s giggling or shrieking. He tried not to look into the eyes of the Elder Isolde, who’d been around since the sixth century and one he’d rarely seen yet had heard horrific whispers of. Rumours of low, _exceedingly low_ generation. He’d even seen some of her anger just now, petrifying all but her beloved Malkavian’s. The beautiful woman was so filled with madness and gave such dread… it was a wonder she’d yet to raze the town with his ill-thought words.

 

He just hated being so disrespected by them all.

 

Sebastian had strived so _hard_ for this and wanted the youngest to know how it felt, what she’d come up against in her future like he had. He liked the woman, and somehow, in a day, the Malkavian’s had flocked to LA when they’d been so very rarely seen around the city. There’d been two dozen arriving just tonight by what his numbers said, and there would be more.

 

What had she done to be thrust up so high into power?

 

Would he ever know Ivy’s secret when it was Malkavian Clan Mysteries?

 

Unlikely.

 

They talked until dawn was coming, though Ivy had Verge listening fully, and instead spoke in her mind to Isolde, who was sorting out their own domain. Those that believed in this and could were swiftly buying up property and business south-west of Santa Monica. They wanted to make the domain as fast as possible, and so she saw images of land deeds and shops contracts – even the taking over of Grout’s mansion. Banks accounts were made, the use of Nosferatu know-how protecting them online, even if unlikely to be useful against Nosferatu themselves. Fine, she’d do what she could for her people. Masses of blood bags were bought, taken, made. Rotations of security protection were drawn up.

 

This was a good start to be had.

 

Then, all information in the meeting was completed an hour before dawn.

 

Ivy fully exited the Network. “Until tonight.” The people began to leave, each of hers having a small job before the sun came out.

 

“Baron?” The Prince stopped her.

 

Blue eyes locked on blue. “Prince.”

 

“I would like to apologise again. My words were in frustration. They were ill-thought, foolish. You had proven yourself time and again in so short a time. I am sorry.”

 

“Thank you for the apology. You’ve capability, Prince. Just…” She pursed her lips. “Don’t waste it by convoluting problems with greed. You’re already at the top. Maintain, not reach out more. Good day, Prince.”

 

Sebastian frowned as his office emptied, thinking.

 

 _Had_ he done the right thing for him?

 

Had he done right for the Camarilla and Kindred?

 

.

 

Beckett met her, joining her in the last ride down in the elevator with Verge and Isolde. “Quite the turnabout, Lovestone!”

 

“Isn’t it? It was unexpected.”

 

“Was it really?”

 

Ivy looked at him, a little grimace on her features. “Beckett, I’ve only known you for a short amount of time, but I have respect for your opinion. Speak freely, loup.”

 

“You’re bound now,” He commented without inflection.

 

She breathed out and nodded, thinking on Gangrel disposition. “I will protect them, my Clan. Consider yourself very welcome in our domain to be. You looked after me. I’d gladly return the favour.” She smiled at him softly, and then looked away when a little frown of concentration hit his face when he peered at her, his eyes a bit too intense. There was something he wanted to say, she felt. But she wasn’t sure what. ‘ _I’d be sad at him gone. The love of knowledge and stories and exploration of history was refreshing. No expectations are so nice in the demanding kindred society. And he will be soon… Gone. Once the Sarcophagus goes._ ’ Her thoughts travelled about in her head, still not used to remembering that she could be heard.

 

Isolde and Verge looked at each other, thinking.

 

“Domain? I was unaware Malkavian’s had one in this city.”

 

“Our madness is a great energy source, when channelled.” She left the tower, seeing a large car for them, a Malk driver waving at her happily. She grinned back, twiddling her fingers. She felt the question and nodded. “To the front, Verge.”

 

Beckett raised a brow at this pick-up suddenly being here and the Malkavian’s acting like nothing was wrong.

 

They got in, Ivy in the middle at the back, and drove off. It was quiet in the car, with blood packs being given to them all for sustenance. It seemed her housing was nearer downtown. Nines was around here, as was Smiling Jack. She should meet with them soon. A constant flux of information was coming in, news on the key to the sarcophagus, of the movement of Kuei-Jin, of stocks and money. It did her head in. She rubbed a temple. Such information being inputted was exhausting. She’d closed her eyes, thinking hard to get all of the points the Malkavian’s were making in their enjoyably convoluted (if a little exhausting right now) manner.

 

She paused at a finger rubbing the side of her thigh and let herself drift away from the conversations in her head to focus on Beckett’s little finger rubbing her in soothing circles. Soon enough, she drifted away, sated by touch and a full stomach.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guitar threads, the Network, strung, are plucked.
> 
> Chinese table as it turns. = the circular table with another circle on top holding the food which, as you turn it, gets you close to the food than comes around on it.
> 
> As a whole, the Network are loose murmurs and whispers to each other. What if it were Upgraded? What if it were perfect clarity? How does it change? When one had become the Mainframe, how do those that connect react? How would you react without no Internet unless with the Mainframe?


	6. His Name Is Alice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it needs more editing but i have an exam today so will deal with that another time.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ivy’s eyes blinked open hours later and she stilled at the unfamiliar room, ready to jump out and fight.

 

Until a wolf reading a book next to her on the massive bed took her interest instead. She felt herself relax at the sight, his fur shifting against her arm when his nose turned the page. The pelt on him felt so soft and luxurious she wanted to nuzzle into it. “Anything pop up key-wise?”

 

The wolf shook its large head, taking her in for a moment in consideration. Then he changed back into human form, lying on his front with his feet in the air so boots wouldn’t touch the bed. It made her grin lightly. “No. The sarcophagus is currently at the museum. Purportedly, at the very least. Whether it still is, is up for debate.” He sat up and shifted to sit on the edge, elbows leaning on knees. “I would see it in these upcoming days.”

 

“I’ll have its placement checked.” Her mind locked onto the Network, hoping to find one of hers near the museum to check it. One was, finishing up on feeding, and went on in. “Going to be looked at now.” She added Willpower, so she talked normally and blocked the Network.

 

“Such swiftness,” He teased.

 

She hummed and murmured, “If only you were of the Clan. You’d understand the difference made. As useful as it is invasive.”

 

Beckett took her in as she came over on all fours and copied his position, enjoying the sight of her moving like that with his beast rumbling in agreement. Gangrel beasts were animalistic instincts and kindred wants in one. She looked delicious moving to him like that. “Your Barony will be only Malkavian’s? Clan fiirst?”

 

“There was talk of the thin-bloods. Accepting them in so they have somewhere. That’s a little way off though, and we’re rather difficult to deal with, hm? I had not expected this position. Attention, attacks, aggression to anything I do for trying to make an apparent grab for power? Yes. Finding out a way to change the Network itself? No.” Her smile was weak and she looked down. “What is happening, Beckett…?” She breathed out, suddenly overcome with emotion, her ever present happiness not apparent. “The sheer change of the _whole_ Clan. An evolution in a moment.”

 

His hand rested on her back and he rather liked the feel of it there, of coating her in his scent. “The fools would say Gehenna.”

 

It made her lightly snort in amusement before she muttered, almost cattily, “Must be nice to be so simplistic in mind.”

 

He barked a laugh at that. “Indeed!” Seeing her only half-heartedly there, he put an arm around her waist and grasped her thigh with his hand and pulled her to his side. “Come now, it is a beginning. Do not be so burdened by what is not yet so.”

 

She couldn’t quite find it in her to be embarrassed at her crush touching her so familiarly. “I shouldn’t be. I worry for them for choosing _me_. I don’t have leadership skills, I’m just… protective. And got lucky with abilities? I think?” Was it really lucky to have been visited by whatever that was? Of course, she’d never feel such family in her mind so easily accessed and warm.

 

“But you are regardless, yes? One with the burden of leadership. Yet it is not that of LaCroix’s, the leadership you wish to have, and so I doubt you will fail in a way that has the Clan coming down on you. You are a lynchpin, Ivy, and putting you in a place of power both protects and has a target on you. The Malkavian’s needed a show of strength after finding the one they’d called Prince has killed their prior Primogen off for a deal - and with the words Sebastian chose to paint a picture of his righteousness, a failed deal at that. I admit, I don’t believe the other Primogen and Prince understand… and nor do I fully, but the Malkavian’s reacted to such very adamantly, and with such vehemence. You’re the Leader to them. Their Prince,” He teased.

 

“I wouldn’t wish that on me - Princedom that is. No, no, the eighty plus people here and the dozens more coming in are quite enough. And they do love to use the Network. So noisy. A hivemind.” She thought of the Cobweb she was currently offline with.

 

He hummed. “A Malkavian friend I had, he was very much besieged by whispers and prophecies and future visions? Is it the same?”

 

“I am not like that,” Ivy mentioned, getting up to take a look around the room she was in. It was massive with light orange-peach walls, white fluffy carpet, four poster bed, three book cases, and an opulent desk with an expensive computer on it. There was a television on the wall, and something she rather enjoyed was the amount of greenery. Pots of flowers and other sorts of flora was around. She felt like she had a bit of park with her and she rather liked it. “I have great strength and command of the Network which joins all Malkavian’s and I see the truths and act upon it, and thus they chose me to lead. It is likely a mix of my smaller amount of Tremere blood that oomphs the Malkavian up to have this happen.”

 

Red eyes watched her closely. “You are holding your madness down?”

 

“I need a clear mind for this, though madness will come in battle.”

 

Beckett hummed at that, leaning back on his hands. “I rather like your Wonderland ways and words.”

 

The Scot gave him a grin. “We’re all a little mad around here. You must be Alice in this analogy.” She plucked a little cactus up, adoring the silly face on the pot.

 

He chuckled. “Oh?”

 

Ivy took a moment to put the plant down and turned to him, coming over and standing between his legs, leaning down to be eye to eye with him. A pause and she lifted his glasses to see his face properly. She enjoyed the eyes on her, bare of sunglasses, a riveting red and almost dreamy in nature; whimsical dreamy over attractive dreamy. “You are logical. You enjoy the madness before you. You like puzzles.”

 

“I see, yes; that _may_ be characteristics I am happy to share.”

 

“You are Alice… Because I want Alice to stay, but Alice does not live in Wonderland.” She reached a free hand out to gently stroke his jawline with two fingers, watching her digits slide across smooth, cool skin. “And it would be a cruel thing to ask Alice to stay.” She put the glasses back on carefully. Her fingers ran through the ends of his hair as she rose slightly, not ashamed of her want to touch him.

 

For a moment, Beckett wondered who she was in that analogy.

 

Red Queen checkmated and turned into the Malk kitten awakening them from Wonderland? White Rabbit always rushing here and there for the sake of Wonderland?

 

He grasped her hand, small but talented, and kissed her wrist. “Thank you.”

 

Her brows raised, a little grin on her face. “Whatever for, pretty puppers? Being infatuated with you?”

 

“For being decent, for knowing my wishes and respecting them, and for making me want to keep coming back.” He knew his beast wanted to stay near, though his mind yearned for travel to unlock mysteries. Though, there was nothing wrong with sorting out problems around this side of America. It would be easy to come back from the nearby states. Yet, eventually he would want to go to another continent… He didn’t think on it. Instead he sleekly stood up and stepped closer, pulling her wrist he still held up and over his shoulder, wanting her on him. “And I find myself wondering of you often. To think you spoke the words on my mind the last few days _for_ me.”

 

She tilted her head, warmly smiling up at him.

 

“I am infatuated with you also, just in case you didn’t quite catch that,” He teased.

 

“Sorry? Didn’t hear that, say that again?” She asked curiously, lips a touch too wide to truly be innocent in smile.

 

Beckett couldn’t resist, flicking his sunglasses off and onto the bed, smirking at the widened eyes at the sudden motions. His beast rumbling through him, his lips ducking down for a kiss that he rejoiced in her not rejecting and found his blood _burning_ in him. Soft, so soft, and the hint of her blood had him groaning. He slid an arm around her, feeling the waves of forceful want twist in him as they kissed hard and she breathed her want into him in the form of a sweet moan that had him grasping the back of her neck. He didn’t want to let go of her and deepened the kiss as he pressed her harder against him.

 

Not enough, for his beast clamoured to claim, salivating.

 

Finding himself wanting to feel her fully, he pushed her against wall, the bed too much right now, and felt himself shifting against her. He was rubbing her, to get his scent fully over her.

 

To show _territory._

 

The more animalistic of them would understand, and that sent a thrill through him that had him growling in delight at others knowing.

 

Unable to quite believe his possessiveness over her now he pulled back, leaning his forearms on either side of her head and staring down at her, panting. He felt hot and bothered and it didn’t help when her grin was cheeky and her knee was running up and down the outside of his thigh. Another growl, and he jerked her thigh up higher, pressing his hard-on into her, his beast energetic and awake and making things work without thought. His lips parted and thirst took him as she gave a soft keening sound, looking up at him in a way that made him want to succumb to her, to keep her. “You… are a most torturous delight. If we had the time, the nights I would spend on you would be innumerable, and long-lasting.”

 

She sucked in a little breath at the words, hips reactively rubbing for more of that ache to be satisfied. “Telling me this is just a big a tease, dear Beckett. Look at that smile. Perhaps you are Cheshire cat? Ah but you are the centre of my thoughts. Alice. She is necessary to the story – what is the book without her curiousness and pressing for truth?”

 

Beckett groaned at the insinuation of his importance to her. He needed it. Needed to know it to want. “Good.” He kissed her again, hard, wanting her lips reddened and making it obvious what she’d done with him, his own hips enjoying the friction of her heated core that burned against his cool body. He parted slowly minutes later, not wanting to, but at hearing movement that had his protective instincts hitching up he looked away. A glower was on his face towards the door before it softened as he looked at her. “We have a fight to tackle in the next few nights now.” He liked how she looked, knowing it was him that ruffled her up so gorgeously.

 

“Love and war?”

 

“Not always fair, it seems.”

 

Ivy nodded, eyes half-lidded and looking both sated and frustrated. “Time to go plan to play around with some demons.”

 

He pulled away reluctantly, going for his sunglasses. “There are actually demons, in other countries.”

 

She didn’t bother tidying herself up, opening her mind back up, and smiling at the relieved welcome she got, giving them her own warm regards. “Oh?” The voices prodded her to her wardrobe room and she grinned at all sorts of clothes and costumes to try. For now, she went for the usual skirt, tight girl boxers, sports bra, shirt, leather jacket and boots combination. She swiftly changed as he spoke, not about to wash when she would be covered in all sorts in an hour or so… and she wanted to keep the slight scent of Beckett on her for some mental support. Some Malkavian’s close in the Network giggled and she felt a bit embarrassed.

 

This was going to take quite the bit of getting used to. She would close her mind- but immediately the Malk’s online didn’t like that thought. Wanted access to their leader for the respite of knowing that she was there, her presence alone adequate. Would not terribly tease, the more understanding Malkavian’s promised, huffing fussily at the juvenile ones that would do so.

 

Good enough, she supposed, but did indeed take most of her mind away from it.

 

There was a battle to be had.

 

.

 

Ivy rode with Beckett to the Last Round while drinking a blood bag, two Malk’s with her, one Verge and the other newly (face-to-face that is) met named Dalton. Tall, meaty and muscled, he was poetic and more princely than the actual Prince, appreciating the excellent lines he’d had Toreador’s dressed him in. Dark eyes and redheaded and strong-jawed, Ivy found herself thinking of home, of Edinburgh. Bittersweetness came from her, and a Malk that visited from out of town and had incidentally come from her home city just recently showed her a picture. The sight soothed her a little, and she sent her gratitude to him.

 

“A beautiful picture. I want to gallop along there one day,” Dalton murmured as Verge parked.

 

“One day, I will go back. The stay time will be determined some other time. I must see the non-existent smoke of Auld Reekie once more,” She added so Beckett knew what they were on about.

 

Beckett nodded his head. “A majestic city. Rightfully proud. Alliance?” He wondered at the sight of the bar.

 

“Explanation is owed, I feel. That would be the bonus.” She let the madness come up a little and a grin lit her features up.

 

Dropping out of the large car and striding over to the Last Round with a Malk quickly going in front to go in first, she entered the pub. Loud music assaulted her ears, but she was still young enough not to care. Human eyes lingered a little, but Vampire eyes did not look away. Brujah came into mind, abilities of what they did from multiple Malkavian’s tracking and circling the area just in case coming in.

 

“What do we have here?” A Brujah came over, light eyes a startling and intriguing contrast to his dark skin. “Malk’s and a mutt? Ain’t that just dandy?”

 

A wheezy laugh was heard, and Smiling Jack came over, “Well, well if it ain’t the three-fucked Malkavian! How’s life treatin’ ya, darlin’? I know you have some stories to tell! Ain’t seen you for weeks now.”

 

Being reminded of that beginning of hers had Beckett’s beast grumpy and wanting him to flop over her and stay there so she was hidden away from eyes. He ignored it, taking in the area like Verge and Dalton were, seeing and scenting the Brujah coming closer. He peered at Damsel, always a little charmed by her brash mouth that never stopped with the aggression, and she nodded her head up at him, which he returned a tilted one down, minding his manners. It’s then he saw Nines come down and take the scene in.

 

The unofficially leading Brujah took them in. “So, it’s true. Cammy girl is here.”

 

Ivy took note of him. She eyed the shirt on top of a white vest, the black jeans and steel-toed boots. There was teasing for looking at his arms in her head, but hey, she couldn’t ignore the copious amount of muscle on a man with a good body and face, and she nodded when she realised most of that muscle wasn’t superfluous and had purpose. He was definitely a brawler. She approved of that. “I am Ivy Montgomery. I do believe I have you to thank for getting me out of that theatre without dusting.”

 

Nines smirked as he stood next to Smiling Jack. “Anything to get under Prince’s skin. But yeah, you’re welcome. And welcome to the Last Round.”

 

“Thanks for the welcome. Can we all talk privately in here?” She inquired, eyeing the jukebox.

 

Nines took her in for a moment with light brown eyes assessing, critical. Then he nodded his head backwards. “This way.” He guided them upstairs to the top and took them to a back room that was filled rather quickly, the music thankfully muted at the closing of the door behind the last of the group. “So, what’s the deal?” He asked as they settled on stools around a table, blood in cups given out.

 

“Kuei-Jin.” Ivy saw the instant sneers and was pleased.

 

Damsel snapped out, “Them pieces of shit whores? What about ‘em?!”

 

“The Camarilla plans to go to war with them. My Malkavian’s also do. This is recruitment into ripping them apart. You may have noticed incoming amounts of kindred…?” She raised her brows at traded looks of unknowing. “No? Huh. Didn’t think Malkavian’s could ever be subtle.” The two with her giggled as she grinned knowingly, with others echoing that sentiment in their mind. They generally never wanted to be. Mostly boring, that. Reactions were fun. “But yes, the Kuei-Jin Ming Xiao has been weakened.”

 

Smiling Jack rumbled a growl at that.

 

“How?!” Damsel demanded, fist slamming to the table. “Did it feel good?” A dark smirk on her face at the thought of the Kuei-Jin being in pain.

 

“Alistair Grout is dead due to the machinations of a certain Prince.” The shrieks of laughter from the Malkavian’s stopped the instant words from the majority of Brujah. “Let me speak first, get it all out. He planned an alliance with the Kuei-Jin, to take out a Primogen and also to frame you, Nines. The Kuei-Jin-” She paused and watched as Damsel glugged her drink down and threw the glass against the wall with a snarl, turned and eyed Beckett who shrugged one shoulder, shrugged herself, and went on, “Created an illusion over herself. She attacked Grout as was planned, but fortunately Malkavian’s were incoming to him, and fought her off. She lost an arm in the process, and barely escaped with her life, yet-”

 

“GOOD!” Damsel snarled, grabbing her hat and slamming in down.

 

“Damsel, shut it until the end,” Nines grit out, trying to hold onto his own anger to listen.

 

“But-!”

 

“The end, Damsel! It won’t be long until Ming Xiao heals up and we need to know this shit if we decide to take advantage of it.”

 

“But Malkavian’s can see. They called the Primogen to join them, and rushed into the Prince’s office, demanding answers. Which we obviously got. The Prince has been shamed into agreeing to tell us all he knew about the Kuei-Jin and their movements, and we are finishing up plans of attack. Strauss is talking to the Baron of Hollywood and I’m here to ask you to help us.”

 

“Why the Cammy girl for us? Prissy Prince’s underling?” Damsel asked with a growl.

 

“I’m not his underling anymore, that was an extended trial. I chose my Malkavian’s, not the Camarilla. It was thought less distasteful for me to be here for the Anarch’s over the Prince himself, though you’d deserve a leader to talk to a leader.”

 

“Would’a fuckin’ punched him!”

 

“Yes, and he’d deserve it. Now, we plan to attack part of tonight and the next few days. This isn’t Anarch being’s used as foot soldiers by the Camarilla, or the Anarch having one over the Camarilla by sneering at them being so weak and having to use your power. That’s not this right now. This is kindred verse Kuei-Jin. Gary’s already contacted some Sabbat, even, and they’re taking guerrilla pot-shots to frazzle and lure out the Kuei-Jin as we speak. Will you be part of this fight?”

 

“Ming Xiao killed a Primogen, why should we fight? Nothing will change for us.”

 

“If you help or don’t help, I’m just going to say it’ll be remembered by each of the factions around here. LaCroix would have had a bloodhunt on you, but instead, we are to be pulling him up for his actions – but not until the Kuei-Jin are taken out and something of an established hierarchy is necessary in battle for efficiency.” Ivy took out her phone. “Nines. Let me give you a number of my own so you can contact me.” The Anarch brought his out and they swapped digits. A nod, and Ivy put hers away, getting up. “Until then, Anarchs.”

 

Nines also did, kicking his stool under the table. “You’ll hear from me. None of us like those bastards.”

 

The woman grinned up at him charmingly as he circled around the table to stand before her. “You’ll have to be more specific with _bastards_. Which?”

 

“All of ‘em,” He replied dryly, opening the door and leading the way out, throwing an exasperated look over his shoulder at her.

 

Ivy snickered and followed him out.

 

The Anarch leader peered at her carefully for a moment, scenting… He added a bit of blood to his nose and was suddenly blasted by the sheer smell of Beckett all over her. It was as if the man stood in her place with how much of his scent lingered on her. His eyes snapped to Beckett himself, the man’s eyes on the woman he seemed to have chosen. He was about to think it fast for a relationship – hadn’t the man only been in town for a couple weeks? - but Brujah and Gangrel were good with scent and compatibility from their more animalistic inclined talents. And, he supposed, the lone wolf life must have left a bit of a black hole that would suck in affection when he found it. He knew when his Anarchs fought and went to their Final Death’s that his own beast clobbered for heightened protection from him over the rest that were alive to make sure they stayed that way.

 

Nines regarded this as a mark in Ivy’s favour.

 

She swept around before getting in the car after that big Malk bodyguard she had. “Thank you for listening, Nines. Regardless of your choice, the Malkavian’s would be happy to be open to talks of friendship between our Clan and the Anarchs. Until then, happy hunting. I’ll be sating my own hunt on the Kuei-Jin.” A vicious grin lit her lips, her own beast beginning to rise up.

 

Beckett simply inclined his head Nines way with a firm look and followed her into the car.

 

Nines wondered at the look.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to get to about 50,000 words with this.


End file.
